


The Award

by ladyofreylo



Series: Real Person Fiction [6]
Category: Actor RPF, Adam Driver - Fandom, American (US) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Adam Driver - Freeform, F/M, Happy Ending, One-Shot, Oral Sex, POV First Person, PWP, Public Sex, Romance, Sex, Smut, real person fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofreylo/pseuds/ladyofreylo
Summary: Hi, this is another in the series of Real Person Fiction.  If you don't care for real person fiction, please don't read.I mean no disrespect to the real people in this work.  It is merely a fantasy and has nothing to do with the individuals mentioned.In this story, Adam receives an award from the nonprofit House Sugar for his portrayal of Paterson.  It's a good guy award.  He also shows he's a good guy after the ceremony is over...
Relationships: Adam Driver/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Real Person Fiction [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777357
Kudos: 4
Collections: Adam Driver RPF Challenge





	The Award

I saw my quarry across the empty restaurant—the high-profile agent who was on my call sheet. She was sitting across from a man at a table in the back. I could collar her here instead of playing endless phone tag. I walked up to the table.

“Excuse me, Randi,” I said. I held out my hand. “I’m Joey _____ from _House Sugar_.” I shook her hand and nodded at her companion.

“Yes,” she said, looking rather suspicious. She was responsible for some major highflyers in Hollywood, so I didn’t take her attitude personally.

I pulled out a chair and plopped myself down. “Won’t keep you but a moment,” I said, leaning in. “I had planned to give you a holler but since you’re here.” I waved my hand. “ _House Sugar_ participates in the annual Merrill Awards, as you may know. We are handing out _The Portrait of a Good Man_ award, as we usually do. One of your clients is the actor who performed this role, and we wanted to give you—and him—a heads-up. We would like to invite your client to attend the Merrill’s and receive the award in person. I wasn’t sure if he was planning to attend or not.”

Randi assessed me with a sweeping look. “What is _House Sugar_ again?”

“We’re the non-profit funding source for women in the arts. We provide start-up funds for projects developed by women in film, theatre, visual and print media.”

“Ah,” Randi said. “Which client has won the award and for what performance?”

I fished in my bag, drew out a business card, and wrote the information on the back. She nodded.

“I’ll get back with you,” she said.

I smiled at her and shook her hand. I turned to her companion and locked eyes. He had been staring at me. I knew who he was. He gave me a half-smile and raked a hand through his hair. It was a typical gesture that had been caught in photos and on film in interviews many times.

I smiled at him. 

“Adam.” He held out a massive hand for me to shake.

“Joey.” I took his warm paw.

“See you at the Merrill’s?”

“Indeed you will,” I replied. “I hope to see you there as well.”

He glanced at his agent. She held up my card. “I’ll be there,” he said. “And thank you.”

Well, he was no dummy.

“Most welcome,” I said. I pushed the chair back under the table and took my leave.

<>

A fuchsia dress would do the trick, something flowing with a sweetheart neckline, and black strappy sandals. I applied makeup and gave myself a squirt of soft vanilla cologne—yeah, I would smell like a damn cupcake all night, you bet. I left my hair flowing down my back and added a delicate heart on a thin chain and a bracelet to match. I was ready for the Merrill’s.

The awards were held in the spectacular Merrill Theater, an old 1920s-style Art Deco building with much rococo and gold leaf trim. The carpets were thick and patterned, the seats plush and jewel-toned. My compatriots at _House Sugar_ , TJ and Jess, walked in with me. We arrived early to make sure we had our engraved award ready, along with a short introduction.

As people began to arrive, I drifted off to the ballroom where the reception was to be held. I needed a moment to look through my notes, since I was the main presenter.

The carpet was so thick, and I was so intent, I didn’t hear Adam walk up.

“What are you planning to say?” His voice was deep and rich.

I jumped. “Holy shit.” I turned to face him. “Holy shit. You scared the pee out of me.” I put my hand on my heart.

“Sorry.” He smiled, looking incredibly tall and handsome in a custom-tailored black suit. “I was walking by and happened to see you in here. You’re in bright pink.” He looked down at me. “Is your hair pink, too?”

“Um,” I said self-consciously. I patted my hair. “A little. I had some streaks put in it.”

“Uh, why?” he asked. He wasn’t being snarky, just curious.

I shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s fair.” He looked out across the ballroom as the caterers scurried around in the background, then back at me. “What’re you going to say?”

I gazed up at him. “Nothing bad. It’s a good guy award, not a bad one.”

His eyebrows rose. “Not an award I ever expected to win. There are other roles with different actors that seem more…” He waved a hand around. “More appropriate than any I play.”

“Well,” I said. “Someone at _House Sugar_ thinks you are a good guy who should be honored.”

“Really?” He pressed his lips together in an effort to stop a smile. “Who?”

I laughed. “Me.”

I gave him a little wave and left the ballroom, hearing his chuckle behind me.

<>

I sat near the end of the first row. Presenters and award-winners all commandeered the first row so we could move around easily. The rows were curved slightly instead of straight, so I was afforded a good view of all the participants.

Adam was seated in the center. Every time I glanced at him, he was looking back at me. He smiled at me the first time, gave me a little nod. Every time after that, he just gazed at me until I broke eye contact.

In fact, we were in one of those moments when his name was called as a winner and he almost didn’t react. I had to laugh as someone nudged him to rise and climb the steps to the stage. I missed which award it was. He got in front of the mic and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, opened it, turned it right side up, and proceeded to ignore it as he thanked a variety of people from the film _Paterson_.

The stage manager called TJ, Jess, and me to come backstage during Adam’s remarks. I missed most of what he said, but we stood in the wings as he was escorted off. 

He walked up to me, said hello to my two co-founders, and looked me in the eye.

“Congratulations,” I whispered.

“Thank you.” He looked around. “I’m glad you’re back here so you don’t distract me anymore.” He winked at me.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“See ya out there,” he said softly and nodded at TJ and Jess.

They yanked me in a corner to whisper furiously. TJ first. “He winked at you. What the fuck? You’re holding out on us.”

“I saw him eye-fucking you across the room,” Jess said. “You did distract him.”

“I did not,” I hissed. “He distracted me.”

“He likes you,” Jess said, giggling.

I felt like I was high school again. “Whatever,” I said with an eye roll, just to make sure the high school experience was fully represented.

Well, fuck. So what if he did like me…

<>

I needed to focus; I had to speak when we presented the award—to Adam. I took a deep breath and prayed to the gods of public speaking that I wouldn’t fall on my face, forget anything, throw up on stage, or lose my shit in any other stupid way.

When the _House Sugar_ name was called, the three of us swept out onto the stage. I scraped up my courage and began.

“Good evening. I’m Joey _____, this is TJ ____ and Jessica _______. We are the co-founders of the non-profit organization _House Sugar_. Our mission is to provide funding for women artists of all kinds for the development of new projects. In addition, we recognize the efforts of all artists to present women and men as complex, in-depth, fully-formed human beings, capable of many acts, both great and small. In our efforts to reward those who present such portraits, we choose a creator to honor. This year we present _The Portrait of a Good Man_ award.” I waited for the applause to die down. “Our definition of a ‘good man’ is one who can be vulnerable, intelligent, creative, and soft, one who loves and is loved deeply, freely without stigma. This year, we honor Jim Jarmusch and Adam Driver’s portrait of Paterson in the film of the same name. Congratulations to Mr. Jarmusch for writing the character Paterson and to Mr. Driver for bringing him to life.”

Jim Jarmusch and Adam both walked up to the stage amid applause. Jim took my hands and kissed my cheek. Adam smiled at me and leaned way down. His big hands circled my waist and I put my arms on his shoulders. He was so tall. His warm lips and prickly mustache brushed my cheek. One side, then the other. I heard him breathe in my scent. Cupcakes. I forgot everything for a moment, except the imprinted memory of hands and lips on my body.

Jim spoke and I had no idea what he was saying because Adam stood next to me and all I felt was his big presence. When he went to the mic and pulled out his paper again, I started listening.

“Thank you. Thanks to _House Sugar_ for this great honor. I appreciate it, though I’m not sure…” He stopped. “I’ve been playing ambiguous characters for a long time. I’m glad I got the chance to play one whose goodness is unimpeachable, maybe, or at least that’s how I see… uh, it.” He laughed. “I’m rambling. But, anyway, Paterson is a simple man who loves his wife and writing poetry.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I believe that we all… we all, on some level… We want what Paterson has. A peaceful, joyful life.”

We clapped and then were escorted off stage.

Jim whispered with TJ. Adam stayed next to me. He leaned in and said, “Great introduction. Thank you.”

“Congratulations,” I whispered.

He grinned at me. “Thanks…. By the way, you smell like a cupcake.”

“Yes, I do,” I said. I wanted to ask if he’d like to eat me…

<>

After the last round of applause, I rose from my seat, looking forward to the reception where I hoped I could nose a champagne flute and flirt with someone tall. 

I felt him behind me before I turned. “Hi,” I breathed.

“Hi.” He gazed at me. “Cupcake.”

“Hi,” I said again. I couldn’t think.

He held out a big hand. I took it and he twined his fingers in mine. He tugged me along, away from the reception, past the steps leading to the stage, and through a set of velvet curtains. He opened a door and we walked down a corridor with blank concrete walls. We were backstage, underneath the wings. It was illuminated by a single set of lights which faded as the corridor curved around. Adam used his phone as a flashlight and opened another door into a large open space. It smelled like wood shavings, paint, and equipment. The room echoed as we walked to one corner where there was a desk. Adam clicked on the desk lamp.

“Scene shop,” he said.

I laughed. “We’re supposed to be in the reception.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “But we’re here for a little celebration first.” He reached out his hands. “Come here.”

I took his hands and let him pull me close. His arm slipped around my waist. “What makes you think I want a little celebration?” I looked up at him and placed my hands on his broad chest.

“Just a wild guess,” he said. He put his hands on my waist and lifted me up. He plopped my bottom down on the desk. We were closer to eye level.

This man didn’t play. The first kiss was immediately intense, open-mouthed, hungry. He didn’t waste time with small kisses but went in like he was starved. He tasted salty, minty, and warm, wet like he’d been drinking water. His tongue licked my mouth, pushing inside to taste everywhere. I looped my arms around his neck. Without breaking contact, he stripped off his jacket and draped it next to me. His hand went to my throat and his thumb brushed my jaw. I touched his face, too. I needed to get my fingers in his soft beard, maybe stroke his mustache. He growled into my mouth and trailed kisses down my neck.

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered. “Girl, you fucking wreck me. You’re a cupcake for sure.” He yanked at his tie and dropped to his knees.

I threaded my fingers through his hair. It was held back with hairspray, but I combed through the soft waves, loosening it.

He moved his hands up my outer thighs and found my thong. “Fuck,” he said and pushed my dress up.

I jumped off the desk, hiked up my dress, and bent over to show him my bare ass with just the pink lacy thong on my hips.

He groaned out loud. “You were wearing this all night. Jesus. Jesus Christ. I’m glad I didn’t know.” His hands spanned my bottom and squeezed. “Look at you.” He swatted my ass lightly. “Perfect.”

He pushed the thong aside and dipped his tongue in my folds. I sucked in a breath and squirmed. “God,” I said. I started pulling the thong down. He yanked it off and spread my legs.

He leaned over me, hot breath in my ear. “I want to fuck you just like this, cupcake. Eat you out.”

“Do it,” I said. “Fucking do it.”

I spread my legs farther.

“I’m almost too tall, baby. Almost. But I’ll make it work,” he panted.

I heard him unzip and I turned my head to look at his dick. He was big and thick. I turned around fully. “Holy fuck, man. That’s what you’re packing? You have to warm me up before I can take that thing. I’m a little person.”

He laughed out loud. “I can do that. Hop up here.” He stuffed himself back in his pants and zipped back up.

I sat on the edge of the desk again. He knelt and popped his head under my dress. I giggled a little and heard his low rumbling laugh.

When he put his face between my legs, I stopped laughing and started making other soft noises. He nosed me, licked me, sucked everything in his warm mouth. He varied his moves until I went crazy, trying to grab his head and get him to stop screwing around. I heard more laughter from under my dress.

“Fuck you, just do it,” I hissed.

He popped his head out and grinned at me. “Do what, cupcake?”

I tugged his hair. “Make me come. Goddammit.”

“Ouch,” he said, laughing. “All right. Jesus. Bossy little bitch.”

He went back under and found his focus. One finger slid into my wetness, then another. I really started to feel the crest rising. Then a third and he pumped in and out of me.

I fell apart and grabbed his head through the material of my dress. It was heaven, a massive wave of pleasure.

I opened my mouth to shriek as the orgasm hit and found myself yelling into a big palm. I bit his hand while I cried out. The sensation almost took me down. I damn near slid off the desk into a puddle on the floor but was held up by three giant fingers lodged inside me. I squeezed them over and over, pulling every drop of pleasure out of the experience.

He pulled his fingers out of me, removed his head from my skirt, and watched me laid out, limp and boneless. He sucked his fingers. I had nothing to say and couldn’t think.

He kissed me and helped me down from the desk. “Bend it over, baby,” he whispered in my ear. It wasn’t the dirtiest thing anyone had ever said to me, but it sent a thrill right through me.

I did. He whipped my dress up. I spread my legs. I heard him unzip again and rip a condom open. Then I felt the head of his dick nudging me. I tilted upward to help. 

“Shit, you’re little,” he said again. He pushed me higher on the desk. My feet were almost off the floor. I wiggled while he pushed inside. It was a tight fit and I heard his harsh breathing and grunts as he hit home.

Then he thrust in me. The feeling was incredible, the fullness, the intensity. He was a big, big man and held me with large hands, railed me with his dick. I felt like a small being held down by a large alpha, forced to take all he had to give. It was an intoxicating feeling. 

He moved my hair aside and bit the back of my neck. He breathed heavily in my ear and murmured how amazing I felt to him. And then he ramped up. He banged into me harder, almost hurting me against the desk. I reached across the wide expanse for a fingerhold and clawed, trying to hold on to something. It was frenetic, it was wild, it was beautiful to have him so completely part of my body. He continued to grunt and moan until he finally buried his face in my hair and cried out one last time. I felt him shudder with the intensity of his orgasm. He lay on top of me for a few moments, unable to move. I loved the press of his warmth against me. 

I would do it again in a minute. I would have him up against me, any position. I would suck him off. I would be his. At that moment, I wished for it all.

Adam slowly pulled out of me. I sat up and retrieved my thong, while he wrapped the condom in a paper towel. He cleaned himself and zipped back up, straightening his tie, tucking in his shirt.

I pulled down my skirt and smoothed it out.

He offered me his hand and I took it.

“Get the light, Joey. I’ll use my phone to light the way.”

I turned off the light.

We walked hand-in-hand out of the scene shop and retraced our steps to the dimly lit theater. The reception was in full swing.

I stopped outside the doorway to the ballroom. “Anything amiss on me?” I tilted my head up.

Adam looked down into my face. He smoothed my hair with one big hand. “No.” He ran a thumb along my jaw again and leaned down for a soft kiss. “You look beautiful.”

He shoved his own hair back. I smoothed an errant strand. “Is it going to fall in your face now?”

He smiled. “Probably.” He met my gaze. “Totally worth it.... my cupcake."


End file.
